When we were in NOLA, over Christmas, I thought I pulled a muscle in my stomach. Apparently, that was the beginning of this whole, bizarre, medical adventure. Since then, it's been ER visits, ambulance rides, various hospital beds (I liked the one that re-inflated/readjusted itself every time I moved best), and showing off my monkey bits to pretty much anyone who asked. (Oddly, having existed this many years in the human world, rarely did humans have any interest in my monkey bits . . . and in the last 3 months . . . parades of humans have expressed an interest.
Now that I'm mostly functional again, I've gotten to travel. I'm in Boston. My hotel room looks out over Harvard. (And, a mall. America's most historical city and I can spend the day watching the customers at a cheesecake factory.)
Later today, we'll venture out to more historic looking places. Probably have some food we can't find in culinary hell. (Oh, and if I press my forehead to the window of my room and look off to one side, I can see the Charles river.)
This is probably the lowest key vacation I've ever had. But, I'm hoping that it will serve as the closing door on the last few months of medical experiments.